


Angel Tickle Fun Time

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Dean Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Gen, Sneaky Winchesters, Snuggling Team Free Will, The Winchesters Love Their Angel, Tickle torture, Tickling, Tied-Up Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 14:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The brothers realise it’s been a while since they genuinely heard Cas laugh.They decide to do something about that.





	Angel Tickle Fun Time

**Author's Note:**

> Cas is pretty much helpless here, but the brothers are watching him carefully to make sure when he’s had enough they know and let him go.

Cas tugs several times at the leather restraints holding him down on the couch; there’s a set around his wrists, holding his arms up and out of the way, and a set around his ankles, keeping his legs stretched out and still.

He isn’t sure why they need more ways of restraining other angels, but he would agree with the Winchesters that their lives are always capable of throwing them ‘curveballs’.

“They’re effective,” he says, and gives a final push with his Grace that does him no good at all.

“You definitely can’t get loose?” Dean looks quite pleased at that, and Cas rolls his eyes; do they think he’s pretending?

The cuffs aren’t terribly uncomfortable, but he’s no fan of being helpless, and since the brothers had persuaded him to take off his trench coat and suit jacket to make it easier to put them on, he feels oddly vulnerable.

Of course, he’s safe here, the brothers would never hurt him, but all the same he’s tested the cuffs, they work, and so the experiment is over.

“I definitely can’t,” he says, waspishly, but neither of the humans seems to take the hint. “So come undo them.”

“Sure,” Dean says, and Cas notes something in his tone, but then the hunter’s leaning over him and reaching to undo the wide buckles holding the cuffs shut when his hand is suddenly in Cas’s armpit and his fingers brush the sensitive area.

Cas huffs and his body automatically tries to pull away.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean says. “Hand slipped.”

Cas tries to give him a look but all he can glare at is Dean’s T-shirt. His wrist is a long way from his under arm, and it seems to be taking a long time to get him out of the cuffs.

“Here,” Sam says. “I’ll help.”

Cas nods his approval. He’s starting to suspect Dean is up to something, because he isn’t incompetent, and opening even the stiff buckles on a new set of angel restraining cuffs should not be beyond him.

But Sam, Sam is in full on ‘geek mode’ as Dean likes to call it; he doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the angel fears Dean is concocting in his head.

Except Sam is taking off his shoes.

“Just in case the cuffs are...you know, hard to undo.”

“I don’t see how me being barefoot will help,” Cas says, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Yes, they are definitely up to something.

Dean’s fumbling seems too deliberate now.

“You’re not barefoot,” he says, and he twists back a little to look at Sam.

Cold air touches the skin of Cas’s soles as Sam grabs the toes of each sock and pulls.

“Now,” Dean says. “Now you’re barefoot.”

At that point it dawns on the angel that they are not letting him out of these cuffs, and that testing them was a ruse; somehow they already knew they would work and this has been about something else entirely.

“What are you both up to?”

Dean moves to sit next to him, looking troubled at the wary note in Cas’s voice.

“You know the last time I heard you laugh? Not because you had to, like somebody made an awful joke and you didn’t want them to feel bad, and nobody else was laughing so you did because you cared.”

“That was your awful joke,” Sam chips in, helpfully.

Dean goes on as if Sam hadn’t said a word.

“So we decided to fix that. But we knew you’d be difficult about it, so…”

“Apparently,” Sam says, and he draws a fingertip up the underside of Cas’s foot, making him flinch. “You’re ticklish.”

He looks to Dean when he sees the hunter pull two sets of cotton gloves from his pocket, and he can see the Enochian script written on them.

“In both forms,” Dean says, and hands a pair back to Sam.

“Gabriel,” Cas mutters. 

Dean shrugs. “Snitches get stitches so our source will remain anonymous.”

“Dean, this isn’t…”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish.

Dean’s glove clad fingers are suddenly back beneath his arms, digging in and squiggling about, and Cas can’t help the sharp squeak that bursts out of him.

The brothers look like someone’s thrown them a surprise party, but when their expressions shift to ones of, frankly, despicable intent, Cas knows he’s in for it.

++

They are without mercy, something that Cas knows shouldn’t surprise him.

They’ve also done their research well, because as their hands find all the sensitive spots on his body to make him writhe away, or try to, his true form suffers right along with the rest of him.

The cuffs are now being tested to destruction, as is the couch, but Cas is trapped and helpless; he can barely draw breath between helpless bouts of laughter, so it’s just as well oxygen isn’t a requirement.

Trying to body check Dean away from him, and Sam when they swap places, is pointless; he’s stretched taut enough to be unable to do so, but not so much that he’s at risk of hurting himself when he jerks and struggles.

Within minutes, tears are streaming down his face, and his sides hurt, and though he’s under merciless attack, he can’t deny it feels good.

His true form, just as trapped as his physical one, is curled into a tight ball to try and escape this torment, but without success; Dean and Sam’s fingers seek out the right places, and finally Cas can take no more.

He’s been switching between demands and pleas to be released for nearly fifteen minutes, but something in his voice this time daws a halt.

“Okay, okay,” Dean says, and he strips off the gloves, sounding winded. “Okay, angel, we got you.”

The two of them are very careful as they undo the cuffs, and set them aside, and ease Cas up.

His Grace, restored, flows through him and eases the parts of his body that ache but in a good way. His true form, peeks out and uncurls cautiously now that the well meant torture has ceased.

The brothers settle Cas between them, a solid protective presence on each side, and Sam hands him back his socks. He puts them on, feeling slightly less exposed, and bathes in the comfort of having his two mischievous, sneaky humans beside him.

“You are both too sly for your own good,” he manages, finally, but they can tell from his tone there’s no heat in it.

Dean nudges him gently, grinning. “You seem surprised at that.”

“It was good to hear you laugh, Cas,” Sam says. “Sorry about the ambush.”

Cas hesitates, but then lets his head settle on Sam’s shoulder, and lets his fingers brush Dean’s. 

If anything, his humans move in even closer, and Cas lets his eyes slide closed.

This…. This is what he needs. He can rest here, recover from their playful caretaking.

And while he does so, he can plot exactly how he’s going to get his revenge on them, and his traitorous older brother.


End file.
